


Suds

by tattooeddevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:32:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooeddevil/pseuds/tattooeddevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing says I love you, quite like clean laundry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suds

He kind of wonders why he hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he has, he is strangely endeared. It’s been at least 10.000 miles since he’s last done laundry - or has been nagged at for needing to do laundry - and yet he hasn’t run out of clean shirts. With them being on the road constantly, hunting baddie after baddie, he should have run out of non-stinking and non-clean shirts weeks ago. There’s only one reason for it.  
  
Sam.  
  
He’s not sure why Sam does it, but he’s not gonna complain. He likes his shirts clean and he hates doing laundry. He should thank Sam, really.  
  
He can’t just come out and say something, they don’t work like that. Instead, he starts returning the favor. Getting Sam the coffee he actually wanted instead of replacing the froofy drink with plain black espresso. Stopping at diners that look like they might actually serve something other than saturated fats and grease. Watching Busty Asian Beauties porn on his own laptop instead of Sam’s.  
  
The first time he hands Sam his Caramel Macchiato with soy milk and a chocolate shot, Sam gapes at him in surprise. Dean merely grins and holds the coffee out to Sam.  
  
“Take it, Francis, and close your mouth. You’ll catch flies.”  
  
The second time goes down better, but it takes seven coffee runs for Sam to stop eyeing Dean dubiously and just take the offered cup with a soft “thanks”. Dean doesn’t stop calling him Francis though.  
  
The first diner he hits actually has a sign advertising healthy living, so he figures they have the salad crap Sam eats. When they settle down in a booth and Sam’s eye falls to the healthy living pamphlet on the table, his eyebrows shoot up - nearly disappearing in his hair - and he looks at Dean with a shocked expression.  
  
“Uhm, Dean?”  
  
Dean pretends to study the menu, that he not sees Sam’s confused face, and doesn’t respond. He even goes as far as ordering extra onions with his burger.  
  
“For the vitamins.”  
  
If the booth didn’t have benches, Sam would have fallen off his chair.  
  
It takes Sam five weeks to comment on the lack of freezing his laptop does and - consequently - the lack of porn Dean watches. Dean knows all of Sam’s tells and can interpret them flawlessly, so when Sam starts shifting in his seat over research he knows something’s bothering him and it’s most probably something that emberasses Sam. He lets Sam fidget for a few minutes before he looks at Sam innocently and asks, “something wrong, Sam?”  
  
Sam blushes bright red - a sex thing then - and clears his throat three times before he actually manages to get the words out.  
  
“Dean, are you... I mean, have you... Whyareyounotwatchingpornanymore?”  
  
Dean nearly chokes on his swig of beer with laughter and he has to take a few moments to get his composure back. By then, Sam’s gone back to his research, bitch face #2 firmly in place. It makes Dean feel like an ass and really, this all started out of love for eachother, so why make it into something negative?  
  
“Look, Sam, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have laughed.”  
  
Sam ignores him, but the frown on his forehead deepens and Dean knows that tell too: Sam wants to accept his apology, but wants to stay mad just for the hell of it too.  
  
“Come on, Sammy, I said I was sorry. I’m fine, I swear. I still watch porn, just not on your computer anymore.”  
  
Sam looks up and this time the frown on his face is from honest confusion.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Dean shrugs as nonchalantly as he can. This is close to chick flick territory and he doesn’t feel like wandering into it too deeply. He settles for the most obvious thing he can think of without having to actually say the words.  
  
“You did my laundry.”  
  
 _I love you_


End file.
